1983

An interesting and curious feeling, as we drove home from our 5th "soiree." There was sadness, and triumph, and unabashedly happy memories for yours truly and I hope for you, too. It is almost a cliche to sing the reunion committee's praises one more time, but Bob Goldman and his team put together one of the best parties we'll ever have.

So many events to recall. There was Mitch (or maybe it was Steve) Barnett's remarkable Tour de Lyme, where he lapped a dozen of us on a bike trip along Routes 5 and 10. There was Howie Brick's 'I-don't-care-about-my-body-because-I'm-competitive' effort to keep up with Barnett, a chase that left him with legs like Gumby. There was the hike to Moosilauke, led by ReedWebster, which culminated in a great party at the Ravine Lodge. There was capitalistminded Ashley Korenblat down at Ledyard, extorting cash from us following the canoe paddle down the Connecticut. We had reggae and sunshine at Storrs Pond, cocktails at the Hood Museum, and a dinner on a basketball court. We set records for attendance, records for 5th-year giving (around $70,000!), and records for dancing all night at Heorot, of all places. We applauded Professor Rassias, who embarrassed a few unlucky classmates during a drill on thirteenth century Mongolian linguistics. We laughed at Kathy Hoes's film documentary of '83s in "The Finer Things." And we watched quietly in Rollins Chapel as several moving testimonies were given to classmates who tragically could not join the festivities.

It was a grand weekend, and I am pleased to share with you some of the more vivid and notable quotations I think I heard throughout the weekend. They provide a sense of what you've been doing over the past five years.

"I just want to ride slowly, enjoy the scenery, turn around after 100 yards, and go straight to 5-Olde." Liz Mueller, describing her strategy on bicycle riding.

"When's the reunion? I thought it was in July!" Marc Ericksen, calling from a pay phone near an oil well in Houston.

"Where IS my wife, anyway? I haven't seen her for days." Jack Campbell, commenting on married life.

"Men are great for killing spiders and lifting heavy things." Anonymous.

"Somewhere off in the distance a dog barked." Lang Davison, reading excerpts from a book he has been writing for many, many years.

"Not to get too deep, but really, what is happiness? What is satisfaction? I live in New York. My air conditioner is broken. I'm restless, but am I restless enough to make a change?"Stu Grider, aspiring architect seeking total consciousness.

"So, what do you do?"Chris Rademacher, creatively breaking the ice with someone he hasn't seen in five years.

In closing, and in tribute to a few people's efforts over the past five years, humor me for a few seconds before you skip to Eric Grubman's column. To Jimmy Gregg, thanks for getting the class off to a great start as alums and thanks for moving back to Boston. To Bob Teeter, thanks for all the ways you finessed our annual dues from us and kept the class financially afloat. To Jenny Hanley and Kelly Fowler Hunter, thanks for the longest class newsletter ever. To Lolly Jewett and Laura Vaill, thanks for a tremendous job fundraising and leading us to a record-giving year. The new executive committee has a tough act to follow.

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